FRESH MEAT
Angel walked down the street of his new neighborhood. He had barely a couple twenties in his wallet, but he needed to go out. He had yet to find a job in the new city, but tonight, he just wanted to relax and unwind.
His hands were still sore from carrying boxes up his four-floor walk up all day. It was a warm, summer night and he had yet to put in the AC. Once he’d put down the final cardboard box, he went to his fridge for a drink, parched, only to discover the obvious: nothing inside. Feeling accomplished and eager to treat himself, he grabbed his keys and headed out to find a bar.
His mind wandered as he took in his new surroundings, nearly losing track of which way he was going. His eyes soon caught onto the glow of a neon sign that read “Pan’s Dancers at Growl Bar” in the distance. Curious and still in need of a drink, he picked up the pace and headed inside.
The place was pretty full. It was just late enough that he could see the place was busy, but early enough that he didn’t need to fight for the bartender’s attention. Finally with a cold beer soothing the sore palms of his hands, he took a deep breath. Finally, some peace.
Beside him was a handsome man, appearing to be in his late 40s, early 50s. Scruffy faced and well built. The good looking stranger eyed him as he continued to drink his beer.
“You must be new,” the bearded man said plainly, seeming eager to start up a conversation.
“Is it that obvious?” Angel replied, trying to stay polite without wanting to get too involved.
“Very,” the man replied, playfully laughing to himself. “I know the face of everyone who comes in here and I’ve never seen yours before.”
Taking a sip of his beer, Angel responded. “I just moved. Literally. I haven’t even unpacked yet.”
“Welcome to the neighborhood.”
Angel looked around, taking stock of the place as he refreshed himself. He saw shirtless men walking around carrying trays of drinks. It was certainly warm, but not that warm.
“So… is this a gay bar?” Angel asked.
“Would that be a problem?”
Angel looked down at his beer. “I guess not,” Angel replied. “Just… good to know.”
The handsome man pointed toward another room full of scantily clad women. “There’s something on the menu for everyone.”
Angel smiled, kind of embarrassed by his own question. He took a final sip of his beer and before he could get another, his new acquaintance stopped him.
“Let me get it.”
“No-no, that’s not necessary,” Angel replied. It was nice, but he didn’t know this man. He seemed friendly enough, but he wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone tonight. Despite his objection, the handsome man gestured toward one of the shirtless men who came over immediately with a freshly opened bottle.
“Is that all, boss?” asked the drink boy.
“That’s should be it. Thanks.”
“Boss?” Angel asked, surprised.
“I suppose so. It’s my place, I own it. But you can call me Mr Kipling.”
“Well, Mr Kipling, I feel I should at least pay for my own drink.”
“Don’t worry, kiddo, this one’s on me.”
The two men chatted some more. Angel described how he’d come to the city looking for a change, curious to see what would open up for him. When asked, he said he was still looking for work but was sure he’d find something soon. Eventually as the night went on, the bar got busier, forcing Mr. Kipling to step aside to run the place. Angel continued to drink, feeling more and more curious what the bar had to offer.
Before he knew it, he was several drinks into his night. Mr. Kipling had switched him over from beers to whiskeys and he was beginning to feel its effects. He soon found himself on the dance floor as the music got louder and the lights got wild.
He looked around and saw an endless crowd of beautiful faces, men and women, all dancing and having a great time. Some cute girls even came up to him, convincing him to take off his tank top and show off his body. He’d been sweating in it all day and he’d been eager to get out of it. This seemed as good a reason as any. Besides, he’d worked hard on his body and didn’t mind showing it off a little.
After a long period of dancing and flirting, Angel returned to the bar for another drink. Leaning against the hardwood top was Mr. Kipling, watching him intently as he came closer.
“You’ve got some great moves out there,” Mr. Kipling said to him, raising his voice to be heard over the music.
Angel took his tank top and wiped some sweat off his forehead before ordering a beer. “Thanks!” he said, laughing. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“The crowds seems to like it! So do you. I can always use someone of your… with your… talents. What do you say?”
“Are you offering me a job?” Angel asked, surprised and amused. He hadn’t considered working in a bar. But he was definitely having a good time.
“it is not a ton of money, but not bad either. Maybe enough to keep you going while you decide your next move.”
The bartender handed Angel his beer. He took a second to consider it, then thought, why the hell not. He and Mr. Kipling raised their drinks and clinked them together to seal the deal. And just like that, he was working for Growl Bar.
Angel’s first week went smoothly enough. Mr. Kipling and the other bartenders showed him around, taught him the ropes, and made sure he was aware of everything. The crew seemed like good enough people, always slipping each other the necessary shots whenever the night seemed stressful and busy.
It was during his first crazy Saturday that Angel realized that sometimes those shots weren’t always the best idea. After a run of drinks and dancing, Angel stumbled to the bathroom to piss out the booze he’d been sucking down all night. He sloppily placed himself at one of the urinals and unzipped as Mr. Kipling came in after him.
Mr. Kipling came up to the stall beside him and began to take care of his own business. Perhaps it was the drinks or just simple curiosity, but Angel couldn’t help moving his eyes over to his boss’s cock. He couldn’t see much in the dark, bathroom light, especially with his drunk double vision setting in. Still, he managed to glimpse the handsome man’s piece… something that Mr. Kipling seemed well aware of.
“Seeing something you like?” Mr. Kipling asked, turning his head slightly to look at Angel.
Angel, flustered and embarrassed for having been caught, quickly tried to cover his tracks. “No no no, I just–I was just looking off. Besides, it would be highly inappropriate. Especially since I’m already working for you half naked.” He said trying to sound sarcastic.
The two men laughed to themselves and finished up. Angel, however, felt something come over him. He couldn’t be sure if he was just drunk or what, but, surprising both of them, Angel leaned over and planted his lips on Mr. Kipling’s. The two shared a soft, momentary kiss, leaving them both speechless.
Just then, Angel stopped hearing the music. Everything became narrow and focused as if he’d become instantly sober. What was he doing?? He’d never kissed a guy before! He’d never even thought of guys before! Why now? Why Mr. Kipling?
Despite this clarity of thought, he was still drunk on his feet. Confused and stunned, he stumbled out of the bathroom and headed out the back of the bar. He started to walk as if he was going home, but went down the other way instead, trying to sober up some more before heading back to his quiet place.
A few blocks down he came across a woman on the corner, standing in less clothes than the female staff of Growl Bar. The only modest garment she had on were her boots, coming up close to her knees and lifting her at least four inches up. Her skirt and top suggested she was out to make some money, though where on her body she could keep it was a mystery.
With a wad of cash from the night’s tips, Angel approached her. He wouldn’t normally think to pay for sex, but it seemed the only thing he could think to do to clear his cluttered head. As they made their way to a back alley, he tried to focus on getting a boner.
The hooker was patient up to a point, but after a few minutes became frustrated with his inability to perform. She wasn’t looking to wait all night on a limp dick.
“Listen, buddy, I’ve got other guys waiting. Are we doing this or what?”
Angel looked down at his dick, trying to get it hard, but flashes of his urinal encounter kept popping back into his head.
“Fuck this,” she said, pulling down her mini skirt so it covered up her exposed cunt. It was amazing how quickly a few inches of fabric could shut down their tryst. She threw some cash back at him, leaving him to pick it up as he put his dick back in pants.
It wasn’t until she was gone he realized she’d kept some for herself.
After not being able to get it up, Angel walked further down until the street ended by a riverbank. He looked out over it, seeing the reflection of lights and stars in the water. He started to feel a little better, but was still unsettled about the events of the night.
He sat down on some grass that bent down toward the water, watching as he felt the booze leave his body and give him his single sight back. It wasn’t until he looked down in the water and saw Mr. Kipling’s face looking back up that he questioned his sobriety, only to hear the reflection speak up from behind him.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Mr. Kipling said, walking up behind him.
Angel looked up, feeling his face flush red. God, he thought, he just saw me run out of work after kissing him. What must he be thinking?
“Can I sit?” Mr. Kipling asked, gesturing to the ground beside Angel.
Angel nodded, too shy now to even speak. They sat in silence for a while, neither looking at the either before Angel found the courage.
“I’m–I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I promise, it won’t happen again.”
Mr. Kipling smiled, staring out over the river. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flask. He took a sip of it and pointed it toward Angel, silently offering him some. Angel said no, as if swearing off all booze right then and there.
“Don’t worry about it,” Mr. Kipling answered. “Things happen. We all do silly things. Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”
“I just don’t want to do anything I’ll regret. Besides, you’re my boss.”
“Right now, I’m just Mr. Kipling. And I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“It’s weird. Ever since working with you, I’ve been feeling different. I’ve been doing things I’d never thought I’d do–and I can’t get you out of my head.”
“Is that bad?”
“I just don’t know what it means.”
Mr. Kipling looked at Angel and saw the look in his eyes. He knew it. He’d seen it many, many times before. It was exactly the look he was expecting. Reaching back into his pocket, he pulled out another bottle, much smaller, and much more ornate than the stainless steel flask from before.
“Sounds like you need something a little stronger.”
Angel looked at the bottle in the man’s hand. Desperate for an escape from his confusion, he thought, fuck it, and took it. He opened up the top and poured its contents into his mouth. He swallowed it down before he even tasted it, not caring what it was. But as soon as the liquid hit his stomach, he realized that it was no drink he’d ever had before.
The smell coming from the bottle was incredible! The wonderful odor was powerful and intoxicating. He couldn’t place it, but it had a power over him he couldn’t resist. His heart began to race as the liquid moved inside him, seeming to turn on every part of him, activating the blood in his body to course through his lips, mouth, ears, feet, and fingers… even his cock.
Before he could even attempt to figure what it was, Mr. Kipling leaned in on him and pressed his lips on Angel’s once more. The man’s scruffy face brushed up against his, much more aggressive and passionate than their surprise kiss in the bathroom. This time, it was backed up with intention and desire, exciting Angel as the liquid’s feeling spread throughout him.
He couldn’t tell if it was the drink or the kiss, but he felt a deep warmth spread throughout his body. It was like a drug, but more natural. It hit him like a wave of pleasure, vibrating within him seemingly down to his core. As Mr. Kipling kissed him, the feeling became even more intense. And suddenly, the sensation built up into his head, taking him out of his mind completely.
He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but it must have been a good while. He came out of his trance to find himself completely stripped down on the water-bank, sporting the hardest erection he’d ever had. As his feeling and awareness returned, he felt a pressure deep within his pelvis, pounding him over and over. And he realized what was happening. He was being fucked. Hard.
He looked back and could see Mr. Kipling behind him. His employer had a ferocious look in his eye as he gripped onto his hips and plowed his backside. The handsome man was stripped down, his well formed muscular body appearing covered in a beautiful coating of masculine hair. His chest seemed as broad as an oak tree, moving forward and backward as he vigorously thrusted.
Angel wasn’t sure, but he swore Mr. Kipling’s face looked different. It was dark and he was still coming to his senses, but he thought he was seeing two shimmering horns on his head, just below his hairline. The pounding force was so intense it was hard for him to see clearly. Besides, the feeling was so deep that all he could focus on was how pleasurable the sensations were as he was being taken.
Mr. Kipling’s grip tightened, clenching into Angel’s shoulder muscles as if his young worker would be bucked off his hard cock. Angel tried his best to keep up, amazed by his current position but also not wanting it to stop! How was this possible? How was he getting fucked by Mr. Kipling? And how was he loving it?
Suddenly, Mr. Kipling pushed himself as deep as possible into Angel’s ass, seemingly breaking into parts of his body he didn’t even know were there. Mr. Kipling let out a sound that both excited and terrified Angel, not quite sure if it was entirely human. It was almost like a growl, primal and old. As Mr. Kipling held himself in place, Angel felt his hot, thick load pour into his hole, seemingly searing his insides with his seed.
Just as his ass felt full up on his companion’s fluids, he felt that strange, buzzing sensation throughout his body. As his heart beat faster and faster, he felt himself get hot all over. His skin tingled and his bones vibrated.
He wasn’t quite sure if it was pleasure or pain or both, but he tensed his body on all fours to brace himself, still holding Mr. Kipling’s cock inside. He felt a sudden spark burst inside him, as if a firecracker let off in his core. He let out a moan, trying to stay strong. As he did, he felt his canine teeth move… pushing out… and sharpening.
His mouth felt like it was on fire, sending blasts of warmth throughout his gums and his tongue. The feeling moved up his head to his ears, suddenly burning and aching. He reached up to hold them, not sure what was happening, feeling them shift in his hands from their curved shaped to become more pointed.
His moans turned to muffled cries. His body trembled as his muscles seemed to shift beneath the skin. The only thing that seemed to keep him from falling over in pain was the still-stiff erection of Mr. Kipling, mounting him from behind.
Mr. Kipling’s intense moans continued behind Angel. The man’s grip held strong for a long while, as if he was experiencing a constant orgasm over nearly a minute! Soon, Mr. Kipling pulled back, retreating his cock out of the boy’s tight hole, watching as it dripped with an excess of his cum. His cock squirted out some more, the last few pushes of his semen from his monster member.
As Angel felt the fluid fall on his back, the he felt the front of his face building up pressure, as if a titanium balloon was filling up behind his nose. The pain should have been unbearable, but instead he felt as though his face was experiencing an orgasm. The sensation was as intense and wonderful as cum shooting from his dick, if not better.
As the pressure built, he could feel his skin stretch to contain the slowly extending length of his muzzle. He trembled in fear with what was happening, soon seeing his nose flatten at the end as it pushed out in front of him, coming into view of his eyes for the first time ever.
He let out a loud whimper, feeling the intensity of something close to an orgasm that wouldn’t end all around him. As his mouth opened, he felt his jaw move forward as well. His chin itched as thousands of tiny strands of furry hair broke through his skin, covering his face in a light fuzz.
The sensation of movement of bone and sinew in his face, shifting into a new form felt like what could only be described as a mix of ecstatic pain and the height of pleasure while flexing newly developed, steroid-fueled muscles. His moans started to sound more animalistic as his voice changed somewhat, and shortly after, the painful feelings all but stopped.
He reached up to his face, feeling the new contours and textures. He didn’t know what had happened. Afraid and confused, he looked down into the water, staring at the unfamiliar face that looked back at him.
He had changed. He appeared to have the features of a dog: long snout, dark nose, sharp teeth, even longer ears. They turned over in the transformation, with pigmentation that resembled a doberman.
As scared as he was, he felt strong. His body was never more aware of its surroundings. The air felt different to him. He could smell everything. See farther than ever, even in the dark night twilight. But there was something new. Some powerful essence he could detect that he never could before.
It was like a scent, but just as powerful to him as a sight or sound. It was coming off of Mr. Kipling quite strongly, making him feel excited and desperate. Whatever it was, he needed it.
He couldn’t get his mind off of it. It was so strong, he almost didn’t care that he was detecting this smell in dozens of places along the prolonged snout of his face that now stuck out, and not a nose as he’d once had.
It was Mr. Kipling. He needed him. He needed him more than food or water. As he looked at him, he felt himself begin to pant, somehow caught between the instincts to sweat and breathe. All the while, his cock pushed out from his body, painfully hard as if it was being kept up by superhuman hydraulics. It was so intense that it almost hurt to be both around Mr. Kipling and in this extreme state of arousal.
He didn’t think about it, but he found himself letting out a slight whimper from deep in his chest. Mr. Kipling came close to him, holding up his head and looking into his deep eyes. Something about the way he looked at him made Angel feel okay, like he would come out of all of this unharmed and protected.
Mr. Kipling’s hand fell to Angel’s cock, stroking it softly and slowly, teasing it gently and assessing its arousal.
“Someone needs a hand, I think. Don’t you, boy…”
